May I Kiss You?
by XxKelleyxX
Summary: The two times Quinn asked Rachel if she could kiss her. Starts in 2x14 "Blame It on the Alcohol"


_The first time_

Quinn's head was spinning, unable to grasp onto one solid thought or idea and keep it. Her messy hair felt heavy and hot around her neck, framing her face and practically shielding her peripherals but she was too far lazy to lift a hand and brush it behind her ear. With a slick slide of her eyes, she glanced at the unnecessarily, obnoxiously huge stereo that was pumping a rap song with a thundering bass into the room. She wanted to turn it down a little just to soothe the headache that was almost forming in her brain but the mere idea of getting up to cross the room weakened her already heavy limbs.

Her gaze flickered back to the game that was unfolding in front of her. She was greeted by the image of Sam and Brittany kissing with such ease that it looked like they'd done it before. Quinn rolled her eyes and watched as Sam tried that irritating tongue trick he had done with her several times. He thought it was sexy while she believed that it was _really_ unpleasant and made kissing him turn into something like a chore or an obligation.

Quinn watched as Santana realized what was going on and quickly interfered, voicing her claim over Sam but keeping her intense, protective gaze over Brittany during the entire exchange. Quinn smirked and shook her head, almost embarrassed for Santana at how obvious it was that she was in love with the slow ex-cheerleader but incapable of doing anything about it.

"My turn!" Rachel drawled in a loud fashion, which made Quinn cringe. She never could hold her alcohol all that well. She chanced a look at Puck, remembering faintly their drunken, sloppy night. The memory quickly fell into a haze and her daughter's face started to come together before her but she gritted her teeth and swallowed another mouthful of her drink, wishing the image away.

Suddenly a hush fell over the raging party and Quinn looked over the rim of her red plastic cup to find everyone in the group staring at her. What the heck? Puck had an excited smirk on his face and a gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. Brittany clapped her hands together quietly; a wide grin on her innocent features and Santana broke the silence with a condescending laugh that rippled through the tense air.

A pair of confused hazel eyes fell to Rachel, hovering over the bottle with a hesitant yet anxious expression gracing her features. Her doe-like brown eyes looked over the drunken blonde with tentativeness as if she were waiting for her to say something. Finally, Quinn looked downwards to see the bottle pointing directly at her.

_Oh. _

Her grip reflexively tightened on her drink. Daring a look up to Rachel, she considered that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad. She'd kissed Santana before but that was when they were younger; before she knew about how sinful it was to be gay in the Bible. She had strayed away from anything remotely homosexual pertaining to herself since her father hammered the sinful notion into her brain after breaching her privacy and reading that portion—along with other entries—in her diary of her kiss with Santana. Even though he was gone and out of the house—releasing his strangle-like hold on her mother and herself—she still felt that belief hover accusingly from being pounded into her brain so much. It was hard to move from the familiarity that she had grown accustomed to.

Maybe not, actually. Her world wasn't familiar any longer after being pregnant, giving up her precious baby, and willingly removing herself from the Cheerios squad. What was the big deal of venturing into another unknown, alien territory like this that she had done once before?

After all, she could just blame it on the alcohol. Right?

Her striking hazel eyes moved over Rachel Berry, noticing for the first time that her hands weren't all that manly, her skin seemed to look rather soft and although her lips were in a downward, nervous motion, when her teeth bit her bottom lip fretfully, Quinn didn't feel annoyance or irritability.

Rachel actually was very pretty. There were times that Quinn's gaze had lingered on her without meaning to and once she realized her mistake, she swore she was staring because she had to wonder just _why_ she wore those ridiculous argyle sweaters for they did _nothing_ for her figure. The day the girls performed in skin-tight leather outfits and Rachel dominated the floor, demanding attention with the swish of her hips and shake of her flowing hair, Quinn didn't have the argyle sweaters to blame her lingering gaze. Her eyes struggled to remain open the following day after reading page after page of her Bible in the dim light of her room once her mother went to bed the night before.

With a sigh, she took another sip of her drink. When she glanced over the top of the cup to see Puck shifting in his seat, grabbing at his crotch in the process to most likely help with his hardening erection, Quinn decided that a simple sip wasn't enough for this upcoming kiss. She finished the rest of her drink, scrunching her eyes together as the liquid burned the lining of her throat.

"Ugh," she let out and then set the empty cup on the floor next to her chair. It teetered back and forth for a moment before settling against the leg of her chair. She got down on the ground, feeling her head swim momentarily before she kneeled in front Rachel, who still had a huge range of different emotions dancing across her face.

Whispers floated throughout the group as the girls inched closer together. Quinn's right hand slid up to hold the back of her neck, feeling her silky hair caress her skin while her other hand cupped her cheek. Rachel's shaky hands hesitantly hovered over Quinn's hips before touching her body for a moment, then jumping off and then after an affirmative, reassuring nod from the blonde, her hands rested for good.

The room was no longer silent and now there were excited cheers, obnoxious hollering from the boys and Quinn could easily pinpoint Santana's roaring laughter from the back.

Dark brown eyes looked into hazel uncertainly.

The tipsy blonde inched forward but stopped when their lips were barely brushing. Amidst all of the chaotic noise, heavy alcohol and rambunctious personalities that clashed together, Quinn still felt she should be polite. Especially after how rude Finn had been to the poor brunette the last couple days.

"May I kiss you?" She whispered against her lips.

She watched as Rachel's eyebrows furrowed down in surprise and a mix of confusion but then relaxed and their eyes met, her expression relaxing in appreciation and she bit her lip in bashfulness. A simple nod that Quinn felt against her hand rather than saw gave her the permission she needed to lean forward and capture her lips between hers.

Quinn was surprised at how effortlessly her lips fit against Rachel's and how easy and almost familiar it was to kiss her. Before she knew it, she was turning her head to acquire more of the brunette's intoxicating taste. Rachel's grip tightened on her hip, bunching the material of her dress in her hand, as the cheers grew louder around them. The blonde felt a stirring in her stomach that felt similar to when it felt good for that brief moment with Puck but also, seemed to be entirely different and in another newfound realm of intensity. Only when Kurt let out a shrill whistle did Quinn realize how deep she had fallen into their kiss and sucked on her bottom lip for a second longer and then pulled back. A disappointed moan ran through the group except for Mercedes who said something that the blonde couldn't really distinguish because she was too busy taking in how swollen Rachel's lips had become.

"Uh," she started to say but lost her train of thought when she saw an expression in the brunette's eyes that she hadn't noticed before. It reminded her only of when she was determined to get a solo in glee club—her eyes burning with purpose and her body taunt with demanding presence. Quinn opened her mouth to speak again but found no words so she slid out from Rachel's grasp and turned to her chair, ignoring the protests from a couple of the boys and Brittany. Her cup had fallen to the ground and only when she picked it up did she notice that there had been a crack at the top, the opposite side of which she had been sipping.

* * *

_The second time_

The blonde was still unsure as to why she had so passionately made the brunette's life a living hell because she wasn't that bad at all. Sure, she knew the main reason why she had started to make fun of Rachel but whenever the truth started to boil up in her mind, she turned her head from the matter before her father's speech would start to echo in her brain again.

The two weren't the _best_ of friends but after her party, the tension between the two noticeably lowered. They would interact and talk animatedly without a condescending jab or horrid nickname leaving the blonde's mouth or Rachel gritting her teeth to keep her temper in control. They seemed to enjoy each other's company but not delve into best friend territory; only associating at school and occasionally over the computer or phone but that was a rare occurrence.

When Puck slid across to the two and wiggled an eyebrow, reminding them of their drunken kiss two days after the party, Quinn fumbled for a second. Rachel must've taken notice because quickly, she spoke up and with a quick shrug said: "When one is heavily intoxicated, his or her actions cannot be taken seriously into account for their mind is not in the right place, Noah."

His eyebrows furrowed and his gaze fell to the ground, his lips pursed as he translated what Rachel had just said. "So," he looked directly at Quinn. "You're just going to blame it on the alcohol?"

She took in a breath and then nodded, glancing to the side to see the shadow of an amused grin on the corner of Rachel's lips. The blonde was confused and noticed a quick, silent exchange between the two just with a flicker of their eyes. Rachel nodded, her smiling lips betraying her. "Yes, Quinn. We will blame it on the alcohol, as they say."

Quinn wanted to talk about it more because she seemed to be out of the loop but Mr. Schue finally walked into the class, apologizing already for his late appearance.

A month later, after slowly treading into the territory of texting regularly, talking on the phone for longer than necessary for two people who really didn't get along before, and going out to eat or watch movies together, Rachel had finally convinced Quinn to sleep over. Her two fathers were out for the night, celebrating their anniversary and as the two girls prepared a dinner together, it finally struck Quinn that this was the first time she was really _alone_ with the girl. It shouldn't have mattered but it did and with a quick look over her shoulder, she saw Rachel stride to the fridge but seemed to actually feel her lingering gaze and looked up to meet her eyes. The short brunette smiled almost reassuringly and Quinn lifted her lips in an attempt of a smile but it faltered because she felt the tip of her knife slide across the top of finger.

"Ah!" She let out in a small shriek and looked down to see that it hadn't done any big damage. Her finger was still attached, of course, but blood was starting to spill out quickly over the chopped up apples. Rachel was by her side before she had enough time to draw in another breath.

"Quinn! Are you okay?" She said in a shrill voice.

She took in the damage with a critical eye, nodded in understanding and contemplation of the actions she would need to take and then left Quinn to walk to the closet down the hall. She disappeared from Quinn's gaze as she stepped into the closet and stepped out a moment later with a rectangular box in her small, dainty hands. She strode over to Quinn, set the box down with purpose onto the counter, unlatched it and opened it. There were various first aid bandages and wraps, all there for any degree of injury. Rachel hummed quietly to herself—a tune from "Funny Girl" Quinn noted—before grabbing hold of one of the edge of the tiny boxes and pulled it upward so that it stood up in a ladder fashion, with each level filled with different materials.

"Rachel, is this your first aid kid or the Berry household?" Quinn asked quietly.

As she moved certain things aside after a quick look to the blonde's injury again, she drew in a breath. "It is mine, Quinn. Although my fathers are two men who clearly and evidently care for my safety and overall well-being, their idea of a first aid kid would not suffice for the many various injuries I could encounter." She removed some bottle out of the box and something else Quinn barely caught as she looked at her still-bleeding finger and put more pressure on it. "Okay I believe I have the materials needed to fix your finger." She moved the box off to the side and when Quinn moved to hold her injury out to Rachel, she huffed and moved it back over to the counter. "No, my fathers would be very upset if we got blood onto the floor. Over here, Quinn." Rachel placed her hands on the blonde's hips and coaxed her over to the sink. Quinn faltered in her step when she suddenly recollected Rachel's hands upon her while they shared a passionate kiss but took in a deep breath and shook her head, making some loose blonde strands fall out from behind her ear to cover her face. The brunette pulled herself up onto the counter, her leg dangling and brushing against Quinn's thigh every once and a while as she tended to the cut.

It really wasn't a big deal and just needed a band-aid really but leave to Rachel Berry to make it overly complicated. The blonde hissed when some liquid fell over her finger, leaving behind a stinging sensation and Rachel offered an apologetic smile before continuing her ministrations.

The two were in close proximity, their limbs touching without awkwardness or doubt and for a moment, her controlling father's speech started to run again like a tape recorder, smothering her with his views on religion and homosexuality. Without even thinking about it, she started to retract herself and step back to disengage herself from Rachel but the brunette gave her a look and tugged her back, bringing her hand close to her face once again as her nimble fingers worked the cut over.

Quinn's lips tightened and she looked over the girl who refused to let her fall back down to where she wasn't allowed to experience her own feelings, discuss her opinions, or even question certain ideas. Rachel let her be free and she wasn't forcing her to be inferior—well, except for maybe in the area of singing where she apparently fell flat occasionally but "with a little work, could be easily fixed".

Quinn stood, transfixed as her gaze wandered over Rachel almost mesmerizingly, realizing that this girl was why she had been feeling so relaxed, so carefree recently. They talked openly about certain rules, ideas, and thoughts without it resulting into an argument or a condescending jab. Rachel accepted her still when Quinn said embarrassing things in a fleeting, chuckle of a whisper. She sympathized with her and stroked her hand when she mentioned briefly how she felt smothered in her own household before realizing that perhaps this wasn't something to be discussed. The diva looked upon her with appreciativeness and thankfulness when finally, the ex-cheerleader had leaned on her elbows over her while they laid outside in the grass, listening to music and softly and genuinely apologized for how she had treated her terribly. Rachel asked her why she had and when Quinn's eyes faltered away, getting that distant, miserable look that she usually fell into when speaking of her parents or home life, the diva simply inquired as to who was the new indie band the girl had found and if they could listen to it; tossing aside the entire ordeal for good.

Rachel finished with the cut, placing a quick kiss over the tip of her finger and smiled brilliantly at Quinn, who felt the same stirrings in the pit of her stomach that had produced during their kiss.

"Now that that dilemma is solved and out of the way, I suggest we continue preparing dinner because I believe the show you wished to watch comes on in precisely twenty minutes and—"

"Rachel," Quinn let out in a breath.

The brunette paused, her eyebrows lifted and she pulled in her lips, looking over her friend for a moment. "Yes, Quinn?"

"May I kiss you?" The wavering request was barely above a murmur and if Rachel had not been so close, she might not have heard it. It felt better whisper it; as if it were part of the girls' own little private world and any prying eyes or ears could not interfere.

The brunette stilled and looked into Quinn's eyes, that looked completely terrified and unsure but eager and excited at the same time. The blonde watched as the diva's expression remained still, searching the other girl's face and finally, after she let out a shaky breathe, Rachel's dark brown eyes shined with the same degree of vulnerability and understanding.

"Please," she whispered in return.

Quinn wasted no time and held onto the shorter girl's hips as she moved closer against the counter, trying to press herself flush against her while their lips connected.

No alcohol tainted this kiss.

Nothing to blame it on.

Quinn pushed away the guilt as her father's speech recited itself once again, quoting passages from the Bible with only a tone that knew them by heart and with such a strong belief. She involuntarily let a whine leave her lips as her eyebrows scrunched together, struggling with controlling her torn feelings.

Rachel reached up and stroked her cheek tenderly and lovingly with her thumb, leaving her lips to kiss her cheeks, the corner of her mouth, the tip of her nose and her forehead. She pressed her forehead against Quinn's and they stood there until the ex-cheerleader pressed her mouth against the diva's once again, trying to pour herself into the kiss. While Quinn tried to kiss her roughly, feeling her strong belief consume her and make her try to hate Rachel for making her feel this way, the brunette simply returned with soft, slow, languid kisses.

When Quinn realized how roughly she was treating her, she pulled away and laid her forehead on the brunette's shoulder, breathing heavily. She felt Rachel lean her head and against hers, her dark brown, silky hair tickling her skin.

"We'll go slow," Rachel whispered in the empty kitchen against her ear.

* * *

**I know this isn't ADMIL but this idea wouldn't leave my head and practically consumed me. I felt like I needed to write it. It's my first time writing in the Glee fandom so don't be too harsh, please.**


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